Wildlife
and
agriculture
sharing the
land can be
spectacular
and
burdensome.

Story
by Steve
Kandra.
Photos by
Larry
Turner.

The
roar of the
wings and
the cackling
calls are
deafening as
the
salt-and-pepper
mix of snow
and
white-front
geese rise
from the
alfalfa
field. Tens
of thousands
of birds
fresh from
the rice
fields of
the
Sacramento
River Valley
are foraging
their way
north to
Arctic
nesting
grounds.

The
Kandra farm
is located
next to the
Tule Lake
Wildlife
Refuge in
the Upper
Klamath
Basin, on
the border
of Oregon
and
California.
These are
irrigated
lands of the
now famous
Klamath
Project. We
no longer
measure the
seasons by
positions of
the sun; the
seasons are
now defined
by which
species of
wildlife is
sharing the
farmstead
this day.

The
spring
waterfowl
migration is
becoming
more
spectacular,
and
burdensome,
every year.
Some
wildlife
guests are
polite and
share quite
nicely;
others sweep
in like
locusts and
consume
everything
green and
growing,
then leave
abruptly,
but never
soon enough.
The Arctic
nesters are
the latter;
rude and
persistent,
they stay
most of the
month of
April
foraging on
my alfalfa
fields. The
resident
Canada geese
are the
first to
nest and
there are
little
ćhonkersä
scampering
back and
forth from
canals to
fields
before the
other geese
head north.
The cinnamon
teal and
mallards are
already
pairing up
and there
will be
little ducks
in the drain
ditch by the
end of May.

The
mule deer
herd gets
bigger every
year. They
migrate
vertically,
up on Sheepy
Ridge in the
late winter
and early
spring, and
down into
the farm
fields in
time to drop
fawns the
first of
June. The
fawns learn
that farm
activity and
swimming the
canal will
keep the
cougars at a
safe
distance.

The
cattail
rushes and
willows
welcome
blackbirds
and
thrushes.
The fields
are full of
larks and
sparrows,
for insects
are the
predominant
species
there. Every
power pole
or
irrigation
pivot tower
is a roost
for a raptor
just waiting
for the
foolish
rodent
scampering
from run to
run. The
summer air
is full of
swifts and
swallows,
deftly
plucking
insects out
of the swarm
of twilight.
Red-tail
hawks have
built a nest
in the lofty
poplar at
the end of
the lane, as
they have
done for all
the years
that I can
remember.

There
are
freshwater
mussel
shells on
the levee
road left by
a quartet of
rampaging
otters that
use the
canals as
convenient
passages to
mischief.
Herons,
great blue
and white,
stalk the
waterway
edges for
amphibians
that create
a twilight
peeping
roar. The
curlews and
ibis wade
through
irrigated
pastures,
tipping cow
pies for
hidden
treats. The
canals and
drains and
the
practical
function of
irrigation
provides a
bounty of
habitat and
food.

For
the gulls
and terns
the sound of
a diesel
tractor
engine
starting is
a dinner
gong.
Swathing hay
into
windrows
rudely
exposes
thousands of
voles to the
gregarious
gulls as
they hover
inches away
from the
machinery.
The gulls
practice
aerial theft
of food from
each other
and loudly
gloat over
every
morsel.
Songbirds
sweep in to
pick through
all the
insects
thrashed out
onto the
ground.
Crows march
like
monarchs
through the
other birds
picking and
choosing
what canāt
escape.

The
Kandra
family has
been farming
in the
Klamath
Basin since
1911.
Through
depression
and drought
the family
persists.
Farming is
not an
occupation
for the
timid. If
you have any
soul you
will
recognize
that the
soil begets
most of
creation and
all of
civilization.
It is sad
and
disturbing
that the
urban
dweller
disconnects
from the
reality of
fertile
earth. How
soon we lose
appreciation
for those
who steward
the land,
becoming
ignorant
minds not
encumbered
by hungry
stomachs.

Early
summer and
this
yearās
crop of
goslings
already show
their
distinct
cheek
patches. A
redhead duck
hen
shepherds a
successful
clutch of 14
ducklings. A
great start,
but I know
that by the
end of the
summer
predators
will pick
off at least
half of the
brood. Teal
and mallard
ducklings
fill the
drains and
canals. In
about 60
days they
will be
practicing
flight and,
by October,
ready to
migrate.

The
den of
coyotes up
the hill
must have a
lot of
mouths to
feed this
year. The
parents are
active in
the fields
and
watercourse
edges even
during the
daylight.
The coyotes
know that
the night
baling of
hay will
flush out
the voles,
and follow
close enough
to the
lighted
machinery to
keep the
springer
spaniel,
sharing the
tractor
seat, on
edge. Out of
the darkness
owls will
flash into
our lighted
nighttime
bubble as
they, too,
take a
trophy vole
or two. A
weasel peeks
into my open
pickup door,
taking
measure of
the dozing
Labrador
retriever.
Ornery
enough to be
successful
in the
battle, but
unable to
haul the
trophy home,
the
aggressive
little
predator
moves on.

Labor
Day usually
marks the
beginning of
the
white-front
geese return
migration
from the
north. The
little herd
of mule deer
bucks have
brushed off
most of the
antler
velvet, but
the little
spotted
fawns still
treat them
like cousins
instead of
future
suitors or
rivals.
Family units
of ducks,
sensing the
need to move
south, begin
in earnest
to forage
grain field
edges. If
the combine
doesnāt
arrive soon,
there will
be little to
harvest.

This
530-acre
farm will
produce
about three
million
pounds of
premium
alfalfa, 1.5
million
pounds of
potatoes,
2.7 million
pounds of
onions,
460,000
pounds of
wheat,
300,000
pounds of
barley, six
to 10 mule
deer fawns,
100 honkers,
about 200
ducks (five
or six
species),
and
uncountable
tons of
voles for
coyotes,
eagles, and
hawks. The
wildlife
will consume
or destroy
about
$25,000 of
commodities.

As
the fall
harvest
begins, the
migrating
hoards glean
through the
fields.
Along with
the grains
and forage,
the small
potatoes are
also
consumed by
geese and
deer. The
days grow
short and
the weather
rough. Most
of the birds
that can
migrate are
gone, but
there are
always a few
that are
spent before
they can
reach warmer
climates.
They become
the victims
of predators
and raptors.
Nothing ever
grows old,
and nothing
is wasted.
Piles of
feathers dot
the fields.

As
freezeup
occurs, the
swans
congregate
on the open
waters,
their
trumpeting
calls
filling the
valley. A
few
remaining
geese become
trapped in
the quickly
forming ice
and become
captive
meals for
eagles and
coyotes. The
deer also
figure out
that the
plastic snow
fence
barrier will
not keep
them out of
the hay barn
when the
winter snows
fall. The
deer nose
through the
haystack and
browse out
the very
best hay÷a
new
marketing
standard÷mule
deer select!
The voles
happily
tunnel and
multiply
under the
protective
blanket of
snow.

The
seasons of
life will be
renewed
shortly.
Just as they
have for a
hundred
generations,
wildlife
continues on
the farm.

BIO

Steve
Kandra is a
rancher and
farmer,
Larry Turner
is a
world-class
photographer.
They enjoy
the birds
and wildlife
and neighbor
in south
central
Oregon.

As
every
gardener
knows, deer
head
straight for
the good
stuff.

These
are feasting
in a private
sunflower
field near
Tulelake,

California.
Photo
copyright
Larry Turner

During
spring and
autumn
migrations,
millions of
snow geese
forage on
private